


Of All the Coffee Shops In All the World

by epersonae, hops



Category: The Adventure Zone (Podcast)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Alternate Universe - Noir, Fic Wars, lots more characters but not tagging them all, prepare for genre whiplash, relationships tagged as they come
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-10-06
Updated: 2017-12-08
Packaged: 2019-01-09 18:55:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 11,434
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12282441
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/epersonae/pseuds/epersonae, https://archiveofourown.org/users/hops/pseuds/hops
Summary: Magnus Burnsides is a hard-boiled private detective. Taako is the client looking for answers in the disappearance of his sister. He's already got a pretty good idea who's involved: Lucretia.... Who is also a regular at Taako's coffeeshop, where the regulars flirt and knit and chat online.Here are the rules: Ten chapters, five chapters each, alternating authors. Two completely different genres. One story. Each author needs to wrangle the genre back with their chapter, while keeping a consistent narrative.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Yup, we're doing [this thing](http://autisticvoltronld.tumblr.com/post/165921763076/i-have-a-dumb-idea-fic-wars). Odd-numbered chapters are noir AU by hops, even-numbered are coffeeshop AU by epersonae.

It began with a night like any other: Magnus Burnsides, Private Investigator, paced the floor of his office mindlessly, cigarette in hand, trying to busy himself with something other than overdue paperwork and scores and bets from the most recent ballgame. He flicked ash onto the floor (even though he was renting, and he shouldn’t) and a stray ember narrowly avoided the leg of his freshly-pressed tan slacks, but landed on the toe of his wingtip. He sighed as he flicked the orange fleck onto the floor, and stepped on it for good measure.

Business had been slow; mind-numbingly so, at times. He wished he could prevent the tragedies that lined every newspaper that crossed his desk, but clients had to _ask_ for his help first. He’d gone into detective work years ago, after losing his wife to a crime he wished, every day, he could have stopped. At night he slept restlessly. His dreams and nightmares alike were filled with the memory of her, perhaps trying to preserve itself where it was being otherwise smothered in work and smoke and drink. When he was awake, sober, he could only see the memory of photographs on a desk, black and white lessening the shock of blood and a red bandana on crumbled stone.

He pulled himself abruptly from the thought, staring out the slats of the blinds at the neon lights outside his window. The pink, blue, and green halos glowed in the misting nighttime rain.

Since her death, he’d found himself lonely. The ebb and flow of files on his desk filled his days, weeks, sometimes months at a time. Bad news was the hardest to give. Most days, he tried to stay distant from the tears shed, from the circumstances that felt so very familiar. He remembered being the one on other other side of the desk and how much it _hurt_ to hear the words nobody should have to hear from a detective. A stranger.

Magnus Burnsides was caught between two wants: being the detective that was needed, and being the detective that he had needed. Most days, the former won out. But every once in awhile he slipped into a spiral of his own grief, took cases _gratis_ that he couldn’t afford to take, cried when he closed the door.

His fingers fiddled with the buttons at his wrists before getting them undone one at a time and rolling up the sleeves to his elbows. In a sense, he was glad business had been slow; the less people who needed a private investigator, the better. But, he also needed work to put food on the table, to support more than the alcohol and gambling that he’d chosen to indulge in on the worst days. He reached into his desk drawer, lingering for just a moment over a dog-eared photograph of Julia. He hadn’t been able to bring himself to frame it again. It felt morbid to keep her smiling there on his desk. Instead, he found his half-empty bottle of whiskey and his glass and set them down to pour himself a drink.

As he took a burning sip from the glass, a slender shadow appeared in the light from the frosted glass of the doorway. He took another sip and placed the drink down on a long-closed file on his desk.

With a gentle click of the doorknob, in walked a rain-soaked vision in a white blouse and a black pencil skirt, blonde hair drenched and clinging to the sides of his face. The coat he’d been wearing was inside out and tucked beneath his arm, which he promptly righted and hung on the coatrack by the door. Pink fur. As he turned, Magnus could see his makeup running in purplish-black streaks down his cheeks.

Magnus rose from his seat, waiting for the stranger to break the silence.

“I’m hoping you could help me,” the stranger sniffed, then turned to find Magnus standing there, bathed in the faint glow of neon through the blinds. His tearful demeanor lifted slightly as he took in the sight of the private investigator. “Wh-- why are you just sitting here in the dark, my fella?”

Magnus reached down and pulled the bronze chain of his desk lamp, giving the light a bit more room. “Headache,” he said, tugging habitually on his shoulder holster to avoid the stranger’s gaze.

“Right, sure.” He fiddled with the string of pearls draped around his neck, hesitating once more. “I.. I wouldn’t normally do this, but I don’t really have much of a choice.”

“Well, let’s not waste time then. We could start with a name?”

The stranger wiped sticky strands of hair from his face and behind his ear, where matching pearl earrings lined the lobes. “Taako.”

“Have a seat, Taako,” Magnus obliged, motioning to the wooden chair on the opposite side of the desk. He sat in his own and hesitated at the amber glass of whiskey between them. “Can I pour you one?”

“Usually I couldn’t say no to such a handsome offer, but now might not be the best time. I’m already enough of a mess.” Taako slipped his hand into his expensive-looking bag and removed a tin of cigarettes, long and hand-rolled. “Smoke?”

Magnus accepted the offer from the two slender fingers into his own, solid and sturdy in contrast. He lit the cigarette, then held the flame out to the blonde.

As his client exhaled and clouded the space between them with smoke, Magnus spoke once more. “What can I do for you?”

Taako looked as if he were about to cry once more. His bottom lip, painted a messy merlot, trembled for just a moment before a serene calm washed over his face. The cigarette found his mouth once more and he took a long drag. “My sister,” he said, voice as cold and hard as stone. “My twin, Lup. She’s been missing for days.”

 _I'm sorry to hear that,_ he wanted to say. Or to reach out and touch his free hand. Instead, he said nothing and pursued his lips. He thought of his wife.

“How long?” Magnus asked.

Taako took a deep breath in. “Four days. And listen, I know what you're thinking, but I know her. She would have checked in by now, she's not someone to just up and…”

Magnus waved a hand and cigarette smoke trailed lazily up from beside him. “I understand. I'm not saying any of that. What can you tell me about her?”

He listened intently as Taako described his sister (identical to him with her hair cropped short) and the circumstances in which she'd disappeared (she went out to meet a “friend” for dinner and never came home). Magnus stopped him. “A friend? Do you know what friend?”

Taako finished the cigarette and stamped it out in the ashtray, teeth gritted between his parted lips. “I don't-- I don't know. She didn't say, but she usually _does_ say, so I feel like it was someone-- I can't just point a finger on a feeling.”

“Is there any way for you to find out who she'd been planning to meet?”

“I’ll try to see. I… I dunno. My gut is saying Lucretia, her ex.”

Magnus paused for a moment, put out his cigarette, then reached for his notebook and pen. He jotted down in his messy scroll, _Lucretia._ “I'll look into it.”

“Swing by the cafe this weekend. It's probably a good place to start anyway.”

Magnus leaned back and cocked a brow, first at the unsolicited work advice, then at the 3 buttons undone of his blouse.

“Don't get any big ideas,” Taako said sharply, then smirked, his mood lifting just a little for the first time since he’d walked into the office. “You can get a little one, though.”

Brushing off the flirtation with a bemused smirk, Magnus brought their attention back to the task at hand. The spoke briefly about payment, time, and when they would meet next: in a few days, once he'd gotten the investigation underway. Taako offered him another cigarette which he declined, opting to stick with just his whiskey instead. Magnus watched as Taako draped himself over the wooden chair and smoked the new cigarette in his hand without much haste. When he was good and ready, Taako stood from the chair and turned towards the door, followed promptly by Magnus who walked him over and helped him into the big pink fur coat on the rack and handed him a small umbrella.

“Just borrow this. It’s too cold to not be wearing a coat just for sake of keeping it dry,” Magnus insisted.

“Thanks. I had an umbrella, a nice big red one, but someone-- well, it was my sister’s anyway and I guess I kind of stole it from her when I needed it, but whatever. She took it with her when she disappeared and I didn’t think to, y’know, buy a replacement…”

Magnus motioned to the umbrella in Taako’s hand. “Keep it, then.”

“Well, thanks,” Taako said. He wiped some of the mascara off his face but ended up smudging it even worse. “So will I get the update, or…?”

“Sure. I'll see you at the cafe. And let's meet again Monday after I see what I can dig up over the weekend.”

“No rest for the wicked, huh?” Taako reached for the door, pearly red nails extended, before stopping to turn to him. “Hey, Detective? Thank you.”

Magnus only smiled as Taako gripped the doorknob, pulled it open, and left.

Taako retreated down the creaky wooden stairwell and out the door to the street outside, opening the umbrella up to shield himself from the rain. He ducked against the wind and turned to walk west towards his apartment.

And walking east, unseen to Taako, a shadow beneath a red umbrella.


	2. Chapter 2

She popped her headphones out and draped the cords over her shoulder as she stepped into the coffeeshop. She took her time looking at the board over the counter like there was any question about what she'd order. She'd have the same thing she always had, sit in the same spot, take out her laptop, and chat with her friends until they could meet up later.

She was so deep in her own thoughts that she walked right into the person in front of her.

“Oh! I'm so sorry!” she said, blinking up at the guy as he turned around. “Wow, you're tall.” _Good job, Lucretia. You can't do any better than “you're tall”?_

“Actually, I'm Magnus.” He grinned and held out an enormous hand to her. “It's nice to meet you….”

“Lucy,” she said as she shook his hand. And then she realized that he'd already gotten his drink, and she'd made him spill almost half the cup, thankfully into the saucer and not onto his white shirt. “My goodness, let me buy you another.”

He looked into his cup. “Naw, it's fine, I've still got…. Well,” his eyebrow went up. “OK, maybe I'll take that refill.”

They got to the counter.

“Nonfat dirty chai, no foam, no nutmeg,” she said, “and Magnus here will have another…”

He blushed, and mumbled, “caramel latte with extra whipped cream.”

The cashier shouted both orders over to Taako, who glared at her from behind the espresso machine.

“Luce.”

“Taako.”

Magnus cocked an eyebrow at her.

“You guys know each other?”

“I used to go out with his sister.”

“Who broke up with who?”

She shrugged. “Eh, it's complicated.”

Taako's voice rang out loud and sing-song, even though they were right there. “One dirty chai, one caramel latte, extra whipped cream.” The whipped cream was also drizzled with extra caramel, while her chai had extra foam and a thick dusting of nutmeg. Not for the first time, Lucretia sighed and wondered to herself whether she really ought to find another coffeeshop.

“It was nice to meet you, Magnus,” she said, and headed to her usual table. She'd been tempted to invite him to join her, but the gals were expecting her to jump in any minute now.

 

Magnus stood by himself looking around for a seat after Lucretia abruptly ditched him. The coffeeshop was packed with customers, leaving him without any options for places to sit alone. Over by the fireplace, one of the comfy chairs was unoccupied, but it looked like that whole corner was taken up by a knitting circle. Every other seat had someone in it with knitting needles in hand, chatting with the others as if they'd been friends for a hundred years.

An older woman with long white hair looked up from the rainbow scarf in her lap and smiled at him. She reached over and patted the empty chair next to her.

“We knitters don't bite, dear. Come sit by me and tell me all about yourself.”

Keeping a careful eye on his very full beverage, he wound his way through the tables, set his coffee down on a tiny table, and sat next to the knitting woman.

He slurped the whipped cream off of his drink. He was trying not to look at where Lucy sat at a table by herself, where there was a second chair. But she hadn't invited him.

“Hello, dear,” said the old woman. “I'm Istus, and this is June, Ren, Cassidy, Paloma, Redmond, and Luca. We come here and knit most days. You can join us.”

“I don't know how.”

“Oh that's easy, I can teach most folks.” She chuckled. “Except my girlfriend.”

 

Meanwhile, Lucretia opened her laptop and put her headphones back in. While she waited for it to connect to the server, she sipped at her chai and stared out the front window onto the street, admiring the striking architecture of the museum across from Taako’s cafe.

<KillerKillian> hey boss

<DragonZord> runnin late?!

<JellyfishMom> got talking to a guy

<DragonZord> ooooooh

<JellyfishMom> it's not like that. (ok maybe it is?)

<NO-3113> hells yeah

<KillerKillian> go boss

<DragonZord> you gotta get back in the game and get over

<KillerKillian> don't even mention that name carey she doesn't deserve it

<NO-3113> is he hot tho

<JellyfishMom> no comment. and don't get distracted. we've got work to do.

 

Finally, back at the counter, “I've got a quad breve macchiato for Kravitz?”

Tall, dark, and handsome in a three-piece suit walked up to get his drink. He gave Taako a small crooked smile as he took it. The same smile he had for Taako every time.

“I'm Kravitz.Thanks…”

“It's Taako, you know, like on the sign? And you're going to be vibrating right out the door with that drink, m’dude.”

Kravitz gave a little half-shrug.

“Caffeine doesn't seem to affect me like normal people, I guess. These are really good, though. You…” He smiled. “You make an amazing macchiato.”


	3. Chapter 3

Magnus sipped his coffee at the table in the corner. His eyes shifted over the newspaper before him, but he wasn’t focused on the words within. He stared across the room at the woman who had dashed off so soon. Haloed by the dim golden light of the cafe, she sat writing in a journal. What had she said her name was? _Lucy._ That’s right. She was the kind of woman that could light up the whole room; older, but never losing that youthful charm. Her eyes crinkled when she smiled. She reminded him of his wife.

Taako pulled him from his thoughts of her as he walked over to the table and took a seat, placing a scone on the table between them. Magnus eyed it suspiciously.

Taako rolled his eyes. “Honey, date, and thyme scone. Just eat it.”

He took a bite, surprised by how delicious it was. “Thanks,” he said.

“Alright, let me give you the ol’ rundown. First of all, that _dame_ you’re eyeing,” Taako scoffed, “That’s Lucretia.”

Magnus swallowed his bite of scone with widened eyes. “Oh?” Well, there went that plan. _What plan?_ He asked himself, wondering what exactly he’d wanted to do anyway. There was just something intoxicating about her. The smell of her perfume, the way she smiled as he said his name, the way she was staring intently down at her notebook like it was her only saving grace. In a sense, he felt they had that in common.

“Yeah, so don’t get too far ahead of yourself. Do you always make eyes at strange women in cafes?”

“I wasn’t--”

Taako rolled his eyes once more. “Save it, tough guy. I hired you for a reason, and it wasn’t to give your number to the woman who knows where my sister is.”

“Let’s not get ahead of ourselves here.”

“Over there is Barold, Lup’s coworker or something, I don’t know. He might have some idea of where she was last, or who she was meeting. Might even be him, I guess. He’s a nice dude, but so _boring._ But maybe it’s the old friends that get ya, right? _”_ Taako seemed to be making a joke, but his tone fizzled before it even lifted.

Magnus took note of the plain-looking man, who sat talking to the handsome gentleman who’d lingered at the counter to speak to Taako. “And the other one?”

“Kravitz…” Taako’s eyes seemed to linger for a moment. “Not sure how he knows him.”

“Anyone else here I need to know about?”

Taako sighed, looking downtrodden for a moment. “No. I wish I had more to go on.”

Magnus hesitated, then picked up the scone instead of reaching for Taako’s idle hand. “I’m on the case. Don’t worry.”

* * *

 

Across the cafe, Lucretia watched the conversation unfolding between Magnus and Taako. The exchange between Taako and herself had distracted her from her meticulous planning for the job she needed completed by tonight. It couldn’t be put off anymore, not with Barry and Kravitz conversing just tables away from her. Time was precious, and they couldn’t waste anymore. There was so much work left to be done if her plan was to be executed without a hitch.

Tonight would be the night of her team’s heist. That is, a “coordinated effort to obtain and repatriate precious artifacts from private collections to their countries of origin,” as she put it. Really, a fancy way of saying stealing.

The plan was as follows, as it always was: Noelle would hack the locks and sensors, Killian would divert and neutralize any guards, and Carey would grab the artifacts. Soon enough she could repatriate them to their countries of origin and out of the hands of _Hunger._ She’d been hounding the nameless, faceless millionaire art collector for _years_ and still didn’t even have a face to the name. She’d retrieved so many pieces before, returned them to their rightful owners, and restored culture where it once had been stolen. But these seven pieces in private collection were some of the most valuable, and most sought-after, pieces on the planet. And Hunger had   _just so happened_ to put them on loan for a brief showing at the museum in her city. Lucretia had assumed it was a calculated move on Hunger’s part, but she had nearly two decades of experience under her belt now.

Her beginnings as a thief had been humble: she, Lup, and Barry had basically stumbled headfirst into thievery in their late twenties. It almost made her wistful to think of the subsequent glory days before they’d been fractured apart. The three of them had made a hobby, then a living, off of museum heists, (all unbeknownst to Taako, as it still was to this day). But to Lucretia, selling those priceless pieces to the highest bidder felt like a worse crime than theft in the first place, and she’d lost a lover and a best friend in following her better sense.

And now they were rivals, in their way, just trying to obtain those seven artifacts before the other. Barry and Lup had found a new _friend_ to lead them, Kravitz. And Lucretia had stumbled into a gang of three PhD candidates, two in anthropology and one in information technology, who had quite the taste for weekend anarchy. They reminded her of herself in her younger days, sleuthing around museums after dark, clothed in black with a pistol in her gloved hand. These days she wasn’t breaking into buildings full of priceless art or dealing with billionaires, but instead coordinating underground efforts to return such pieces to the places they’d been stolen from. She’d never imagined herself as a vigilante philanthropist instead of a petty thief, but she’d arrived here regardless.

She glanced from Barry, to Taako, to Magnus, then opened her laptop once more and sent a message to her group. _We’re on for tonight._

* * *

 “Funny seeing you here, Magnus.”

A familiar voice cut through the jazz and chatter that filled the room. Magnus turned to see the same woman from the coffee shop, bathed in a dress of blue silk and the dim light of the bar. He was dumbfounded by the sight of her, lithe and tall in her high heels. _Lucretia._

When he said nothing, she simply smiled. “May I?” she asked, after she’d already reached out for the breast pocket of his shirt. Two manicured fingers plucked a cigarette by the filter and nimbly raised it to her lips.

He flicked his lighter open and cupped a hand around the flame as she leaned forward to meet him. The golden glow danced over her cheekbones and the sheen of red lipstick on her lips. As the cherry burned, she looked up through long eyelashes to meet his gaze. For the first time in years, something foreign stirred within him. Nostalgia? Remorse? No, he was intimately familiar with those.

She blew a smoke ring with puckered lips. _Oh._ Lust.

He brushed the entire train of thought from his mind. That was a bad idea. The worst idea, maybe.

“You make it a habit of coming to places like this, madame?” Magnus asked, nodding to the bartender to get his attention.

She laughed. “Lucy is okay.”

“Okay, _Lucy._ ” he said lightly, glancing sideways at her as the bartender approached. “What are you drinking?”

“Gin and tonic,” she said, leaning close to him to speak over the music.

“Another whiskey for me, and a gin and tonic for the lady.” As the bartender left them, Magnus nudged her but kept his eyes elsewhere. “Of all the gin joints…”

She shook her head with a smile and ashed her cigarette in the tray on the bar. “Shut up,” she laughed, sneaking a sideways glance at him. She admired the peppering of grey hairs at his temples and sideburns, and the way his white shirt pulled taught over the muscles beneath it as he moved. But she wasn't going to give herself away quite yet.

Magnus met her eyes and smirked. If she knew anything about Taako’s sister, or had anything to do with her disappearance, she certainly wasn’t acting like it. She was just a middle-aged writer; she seemed so _normal_ , aside from being, quite frankly, the most beautiful woman in the place. What did she have to do with all this, aside from being an ex-girlfriend? Taako seemed so _sure_ that it was her, but why?

He studied her as she studied the band on the stage as they played another swing tune and filled the bar with jazzy cacophony. A few couples had gotten up to dance.

“That was sweet of you,” she said. “I’ll buy the next round?”

“I’m just making good on the latte you bought me this morning.” Magnus leaned back against the bar. “You don’t need to do that.”

“What if I wanted to do that?”

The bartender returned with their drinks and Magnus’s eyes followed her hand as she removed the lime carefully from the rim and squeezed the juice into the drink with a practiced hand. He noted the action in his mind. Perhaps she was a bar regular, or maybe she was just good with her hands. Either one was a win, it seemed.

They had a few drinks together, Magnus insisting he pay for them all. Once they were liquored up, the band started playing a familiar tune.

“Dance with me?” she asked, slinking a hand along his forearm.

He’d had enough whiskey to cast aside his common sense and professionalism. Silently, he took her hands and led her into the crowd of couples dancing in time to the swinging beat.

“So, tell me, Magnus,” she said. “What's a looker like you doing here alone?”

He laughed a little, guiding her around by the waist. “I just came to have a drink. Looks better than drinking alone at your desk.”

“Where do you work that you can drink at your desk?”

Magnus paused, then spoke the truth anyway, consequence be damned. She was too intoxicating (and he too intoxicated) for him to care about anything else. “I'm a private investigator.”

“Oh,” Lucretia said, hiding the burst of anxiety that'd taken her stomach. If he was onto her, she at least needed to distract him. The heist, set to start within the hour, needed to go off without a hitch. If by chance this was some kind of setup, managing to get all seven artifacts and sleeping with the investigator on her case wouldn't be the worst way to go out. “Interesting.”

Well, now she _had_ to fuck him.

She slid against him, pressing her thigh between his legs, then snaked one hand up his chest.

“You always dance like this?”

She grinned like a cat, just waiting to pounce. “Only on nights like these.”

They danced like that for awhile until the music swelled and he spun her out as space in the crowd would allow, then wound her back in so her back pressed to his front. She took the opportunity to grind her ass to his hips.

She laid her head back on his shoulder. “Buy me another drink?”

As the song ended he led her back to the bar and nodded to the bartender, who immediately brought them another round.

He sat her on a stool at the crowded bar and stood behind her, pulling two more cigarettes from his pocket. He handed one to her, but before he lit them she leaned up to his ear.

“You seem lonely,” she sighed, barely audible over the music. “Are you?”

He made a barely-there noise of confirmation. He was. He had been for quite some time.

“You don't have to be.”

He flushed red under the smoky glow of the bar light, obviously under her spell.

“Your place or mine?”

Lucretia swallowed a too-long gulp of her drink. She considered the heist, and how if anything went south, the girls would head right for her apartment. It’d become a headquarters of sorts. “Yours?”

Magnus chuckled, clearly intoxicated. “I was hoping you’d say yours.” He said. “I don't--”

His crooked smile faded. He hadn't shared a bed with anyone since his wife. There'd been women here and there, but never in his room, never at his place. He couldn't bring himself to do that much.

But that blue dress, those red lips, those high, high heels. Consequences be damned.

“What about my office?”

* * *

They stumbled back through the door of his office, dropping their coats to the floor in their haste. As she kissed him her red lipstick smeared his mouth and cheek; it matched the blush that had risen from his neck upwards. He watched in wonder for just a moment as she unpinned her hair and it fell in tight curls to her shoulders.

“Lucy,” he sighed, unable to hide the slur of his words. “You’re something else.”

She smirked and pushed him backwards and into the client’s chair behind him. He rolled it quickly out of the way and backed her up to the large oak desk, still covered in all his paperwork. Instead of moving it, he just pushed her down on top of it and followed quickly after her to kiss her, once, twice, then down her neck. It was good; it was almost too good, the way she moved against him, the way her mouth felt hot and wet against his own. It'd been a long time since he'd felt the touch of a woman. He pushed her back a bit more and reached up under her dress to pull away her stockings, peeling them from her legs one by one, sensual and slow. As she writhed beneath his touch she knocked into the lamp beside her and knocked it onto its side, sending bright light flooding down onto the floor instead of onto the desk.

“Sorry,” she panted between his rough kisses. He said nothing in return.

Instead, he held her by the hips, dwarfing her beneath his solid hands, and pulled her up to flip her onto her stomach. As she slid back over the desk, she knocked a whole pile of folders over and onto the floor.

“Fuck,” she sighed. “I’m so sorry.”

Magnus was already hiking up her silken dress. “It’s fine,” he said, practically a growl, and opted for a handful of curls to arch her back up to him so he could kiss her neck.

Lucretia grinned.

* * *

When they were done, Magnus turned away to button his shirt and get sorted back into his pants while Lucretia pulled her dress back down and made an attempt to put her hair back up. She moved to pick up some of the various items she’d knocked off of his desk in their haste. She gathered up a pile of papers and put them all neatly back into their folder. But as she went to pick up his small notebook that fallen and flipped open, she stopped dead. There were familiar names there, on the page. Lup, then Taako...

And then, her own.

She put the notebook down abruptly as he turned and swallowed the knot that’d risen in her throat. “Well,” she said, straightening her dress. “I’d better go. Work to be done tomorrow.”

“On a Sunday?”

She smiled through her anxiety, praying that this wasn't her end. If she could just get out and get back home... “A writer’s work is never done, hmm?”

“Fair enough,” Magnus conceded. He closed the space between her and kissed her one more time. “Thanks for… this. You’re good company, Lucy. I’ll see you around.”

“Yeah,” she murmured, wanting to disappear from his memory. This was all so, so very complicated.

Lucretia left the office and walked home briskly, wrapped in her long coat. Her place wasn’t very far from the cafe. Her profession had its perks; a nice apartment was one of them. She took the elevator up to the sixth floor and fumbled around in her purse for her key. However, as she put it into the lock, she noticed it was already open.

“What…?” she said aloud, fear striking through her. If this was a setup, if Magnus had sent someone here while they’d been in his office, it was all over. _Fuck._ Why didn't she just bail at the bar the second he said he was a detective? She was still drunk, and in no shape to fight anyone off right now. She braced herself and pushed the door open, pacing into her home. “Hello?”

She rounded the corner to find Carey sitting casually at her countertop, eating Chef Boyardee directly from an unheated can. “Hey boss, didja get laid or what?”

“Carey,” Lucretia exhaled, placing a hand on the wall to steady herself, then flipping the lights on. “Jesus Christ, can you _please_ just call me next time. We can’t keep doing this.”

Carey snickered, taking another bite of her cold pasta. “Didn’t answer the question, and your lipstick is suuuper smudged, so I’m gonna assume the night was a success. Which also, so was mine. Sort of.” Lucretia wiped some lipstick from her chin self consciously as Carey opened a small box. Within it was a smaller bundle of cloth which she unfurled gingerly. Inside of it was a monocle, platinum and glimmering in the kitchen light.

Lucretia’s heart leapt at the sight of the artifact, but sank at the realization that they’d recovered only one of the seven in the collection. “One?”

“One. Sorry. Someone showed up and we had to dip before things went south.”

Lucretia stopped. “Someone ‘showed up’? Did you see who it was?”

Carey sounded genuinely shaken. “No. We bailed as soon as there was any sign of trouble.”

“I will look into it. Regardless, excellent work. You should be proud.”

“Thanks, ‘Creesh.” Carey said, but it sounded halfhearted. An uncharacteristic pause stopped her from saying anything else.

Lucretia took note. “Was there anything else?”

“I, uh, have some not-so-hot news, aside from all that,” Carey said avoidantly, playing with the edge of the cloth. “But I don’t--”

“Please, tell me.”

Carey looked up at her.

“Lup is missing.”


	4. Chapter 4

“Quad breve macchiato.” In other words, tall dark and handsome, today in a charcoal-grey suit with a black vest, red shirt, black tie. Silver tie pin in the shape of a feather. His locs tied back in a loose braid. Not that Taako was paying attention. In other words, “Kravitz, yeah?”

“Yes, that's my drink, thanks,” he said, picking up his drink from the counter.

“I was about to take my break. Could we… Um… Talk for a sec?” Taako undid his apron and threw it to Ren. He started walking toward the back without looking to see if Kravitz was following.

He stood in the alley behind the coffeeshop and turned his face up into the cool mist. Kravitz stepped out and unfurled an umbrella. Not that umbrella, though. Taako let out a long breath through his nose.

“You've been hanging out with Barry and Lup a lot lately, Mr. quad breve macchiato.”

Kravitz’s eyebrow twitched up.

“I don't know where she --”

“Okay, that wasn't what I was going to ask, but okay. Nerd Alert Barrold, he actually likes her, doesn't he?”

“I've never known anyone as dedicated to someone's welfare as Barry is to Lup. It's quite touching.”

Taako sighed.

“I… I might have gone a little overboard? It's just. I know Lup.”

“Certainly.”

“Look, I hired a private investigator. To, like, look into things? I mean, Lucretia, mostly.” He slumped back against the wall. “But also Barry? I'm just worried.” He looked at Kravitz, who was still giving him that same quizzical look. “No, okay, I'm being, ugh jeezy creezy I know it's melodramatic.”

He ran a hand through his long hair.

“You're worried about your sister,” said Kravitz. “That's natural.”

“And now I'm worried that the hunky detective I hired is getting handsy with ‘Creesh. Hachi machi is this like a bad movie or what? I don't even know why I'm telling you all this, I don't even know you. But, get this? I trust you. For some reason. Maybe it's that handsome face?”

Kravitz blushed and looked at the puddle near his feet. _Okay, cool, that's interesting_ , thought Taako. And before he could overthink it any more, he stepped under Kravitz’s umbrella and kissed him on the cheek.

* * *

Lucretia hummed along with the music in her headphones as she approached the coffeeshop. She glanced at the museum for just a second: a short fellow with a mustache and a young man with enormous glasses were both talking to a cluster of cops and security guards in the drizzly morning. The mustachioed man seemed to be giving orders, while the young guy was taking notes, nodding along with his compatriot. She smiled. So far so good.

Then she caught sight of Barry -- utterly unstylish in layers of flannel and denim -- in one of the chairs at a table under the front awning. He raised an eyebrow and looked up at her, his arms folded over his chest.

“How was _your_ night?”

She smiled, thinking of the prior night’s dual scores.

“Wouldn’t _you_ like to know.”

He sighed and looked down into his coffee. (Medium pour-over, because Taako refused to get a machine to do drip. _You want that boring-ass stuff, you gotta wait._ Although of course he never actually made Barry wait.) His brows knit together and he blinked rapidly.

She slipped into the chair next to him.

“Dude. I’m sorry. I just heard about….”

He looked at her in obvious distress. “What do you care?”

“Hey, that’s not fair. We used to all be friends, right?”

“Used to. You’re the one who broke up the old gang.”

“Ugh. Let’s not have this argument again?”

He shrugged. “Sure. Whatever. Who’s arguing? If you hear anything….”

“Yeah, I’ll keep an eye out. Or you could ask Taako about the detective he's hired.”

* * *

 

Rich guys were tricky in therapy, thought Merle, not for the first time, as he waited just inside the front door. They figured they could buy mental health. His practice was built on shaking people up a bit until they opened up. Sometimes that meant an unorthodox approach. Like this guy John. They’d had however many sessions, and there was no change. Which sure, great, if dude wants to spend his own money to just say self-aggrandizing and yet totally depressed bullshit, but Merle got into this field to help people, so he’s going to give it his best try.

They’re not having a session here, just testing the waters in a new social situation. Supposedly John has social anxiety in crowds, although sometimes Merle wonders if his patient is putting him on. This is a small crowd, a nice neighborhood coffeeshop. He’s been here himself once or twice, but he’s not well known, so that works.

John met him there, his long coat beaded up with little drops of water. Everything about this guy was always put together, expensive, but he looked uneasy, dark eyes flicking back and forth over the crowd. He frowned at the front counter, like he’s looking for someone maybe.

“No umbrella?” Not that Merle ever carried one: when he cares enough to keep his glasses dry, that's what his green rain proof hat is for.

“Why bother? It’s just another thing to carry that’s going to drip everywhere.”

Pretty typical John. Maybe he should refer him to a new therapist. Merle’s gotten to be almost cynical about it himself, which he knows isn’t the best.

“Let’s order,” he said instead. John didn't look at ease until they get to the front counter. He nodded, once, as if some unasked question had been answered.

“I’ll have a vanilla latte,” said Merle. “With soy, or hemp milk if ya got some. John?” He turned to his patient? Client? He figured that for today, they were pretending to be just friends.

“Double shot of espresso, please.” And he took a crisp bill out of his billfold, paying for them both.

* * *

Carey pulled down the hood of her blue sweatshirt and weaseled her way through the crowd until she was right behind Magnus. She tapped at her phone:

<DrazonZord> this the guy

<JellyfishMom> y

<DragonZord> damn u kno how 2 pick em

<KillerKillian>o ye?

<DragonZord> BRICK SHITHOUSE

<JellyfishMom> focus

<NO-3113> snapchat tho

Carey slipped her phone back into her pocket and deliberately bumped her shoulder into his back. He stumbled forward and as he did, she snagged his wallet out of his back pocket. He turned and for a second she thought, maybe -- but nope, it’s cool, he just looks concerned, a bit of a smile.

“Sorry dude, I’m just a klutz. You cool?”

“Yeah, super cool. Nice hoodie.”

* * *

 

The young man looked up at the board and pushed his glasses up his nose as he ordered.

“One large black coffee and one medium pumpkin spice latte to go, please.”

The cashier looked over at Taako behind the espresso machine.

“Pumpkin. Spice. Latte. I don't know where you think you are, kiddo.”

“Sorry, sir. I thought….”

“Ren, just charge him for a latte. I'll get you something much better than that chain store garbage, kid.”

“It's Angus, sir.”

“Of course it is. One pourover and one latte with a powerful blend of exotic spices, coming right up for Agnes.”

“To go, please, I need to get back to my investigation.”


	5. Chapter 5

The next night was significantly calmer than the last. The rain had stopped and the night was quiet and calm. Carey and Killian walked under the streetlights, holding hands, taking their time as they strolled to meet Lucretia and Noelle at Lucretia’s place. There was so much to be done. The moon shone brightly above them; its light was tarnished only by a few wisps of clouds that haloed and tinged the moon a pale blue. 

Killian linked her arm with her girlfriend’s. “Nice night.” 

“Yeah. Man, I wish we didn’t have so much to do. I think we earned a night off after yesterday.” 

“I mean, we only pulled off one seventh of the job.” Killian laughed. 

Carey shrugged as they turned the corner. “Yeah, well. Ya win some, ya lose some.” 

“You know it was on the news? Our buddy Hunger is making a big stink about it.” 

“I think we’ve got bigger fish to fry at this point. No use in trying again if that PI’s up our ass.” 

Killian held the door of Lucretia’s apartment building open and let Carey walk through. “Did you put his wallet back?” 

Carey snickered, pulling it from her pocket. “Nope. He’s got 53 bucks and a condom. Hope he doesn’t miss it much.” 

“Wow, score,” Killian rolled her eyes. “What do you even need it for? All you needed was his last name, coulda given it back.” 

“53 bucks is 53 bucks, babe.” 

They took the elevator up to Lucretia’s apartment and knocked twice on the door. She let them in and brought them straight to the living room, where Noelle was typing quickly away at her laptop. Without even looking up, she uttered a hello, then continued her work. 

“Bad news,” Lucretia started. She picked up the glass of dark red wine on the coffee table and took a long sip. 

“More bad news?” asked Killian. 

“The detective does all of his work on paper. There’s nothing for us to get to.” 

Carey laughed. “Alright, for one, ‘the detective?’ C’mon, boss, aren’t you at least on a first name basis now?” 

Lucretia shot her a look as she lit a cigarette. 

Killian went off into the kitchen. “Coffee?” 

“Yes,” the three women said in unison. 

Noelle finally looked up from her computer and slumped back onto the couch. “Alright. Here’s what we’ve got: Magnus Burnsides, 43, he’s only been a detective for a couple years… All news points him to missing persons cases.” 

“Lup,” Carey said, curling up to perch on her feet on the armchair she’d claimed. 

Lucretia took a drag of her cigarette and sighed. “Yes. But does he know about  _ us?”  _

Carey cleared her throat. “Well, I mean… the boss was--” 

“I have been implicated in this case. My best guess is Taako hired Magnus, because it certainly wasn’t Barry or Kravitz.” 

Killian returned with two mugs of coffee, black for Noelle and light for Carey. “Her brother  _ still  _ doesn’t know?” 

“Makes sense, I guess. Who else knows about us?” said Carey.

Lucretia pulled her cigarette from her lips, lipstick lingering on the filter. “Hopefully not the P.I.” 

She couldn’t untangle the feeling in her gut. Getting found out was not an option. But she felt  _ guilty _ for that. If Lup was in danger because of a heist, both operations, her own and Lup’s, would fall apart, and they’d probably all end up in prison. But if they remained a secret, who knows if Lup would even be found? 

“I want to figure this out before he does. That should be our priority.” 

Killian furrowed a brow. “But--” 

“Get to work.”  

* * *

Taako had draped himself over the wooden chair of Magnus’s office once again, a trail of smoke that obscuring his face in the dim light of the office. 

“That offer for a drink still on the table, detective?” he asked, playing with the hem of his dress on his thigh. 

Magnus nodded silently and poured them each a glass of amber that reflected the glow from the lamp on the desk.

“I heard a pretty concerning rumor about you.”

Magnus looked up, but Taako was still looking down at his thigh. “Oh?” 

Taako smiled, but he looked cruel. “Yeah, that you were getting handsy with your new friend  _ Lucy  _ at the bar the other night. Mind explaining how that makes you look like a capable detective?” 

Magnus exhaled and leaned back in his chair. “She was there on my night off, and I figured I’d take the opportunity to try to squeeze some info from her. So a hand may have slipped. I feel like if she’d been onto me, or had something to hide, she would have bolted.” 

Taako scoffed. “You’re pretty blasé about all this for a P.I., y’know. Aren’t you working on clients’ trust alone?” 

“I’m working on it, alright? I just don’t think she’s the one we’re looking for.” 

Taako reached out for his glass and took a long sip. “What makes you say that, my man? ‘Cause I don’t think she’s given you a good reason, I think she gave you some good tail, and now you’re giving her the benefit of the doubt ‘cause you couldn’t keep your pants on.” 

Magnus gulped down some whiskey, trying to figure out how to defend himself on that indiscretion. 

“I mean, really. The girl’s a quiet type, but she’s sharp as hell. She knows who everyone is, and she’s never been afraid to use that to her benefit. You really think it was a coincidence that she wound up at your place?” 

Magnus decided to omit the detail where he’d brought her back to his  _ office.  _ “So, what’s her game, then?” 

“Distract you, then divert you. Listen, I get it. She seems like a real belle of the ball and whatever bullshit, but she’s got a mean streak. She’s a cold hard bitch, and she’ll fuck your life up too, if you don’t get out in front of her.” 

Magnus scratched at his stubble. He couldn’t decide on what to do next. If she really was as… cruel as Taako made her out to be, he could be staring the answer to Lup’s disappearance in the face and waste so much time. But if it wasn’t her, they’d be wasting even more time, and making no progress at all. 

“What makes you so sure it’s her?” 

“Funny you ask. We’ve been over this-- I  _ heard  _ them arguing not too long ago, some shit about breaking up and whatever, blah, blah,” Taako waved his hand theatrically. “Then, Lucretia didn’t come around for awhile. But then, all of a sudden, Lup’s telling me she’s going to Lucretia’s place to  _ talk,  _ kiss and make up, whatever. And then she didn’t come back? How is that not the most obvious thing you’ve ever heard, my man?”

Magnus’s hand tensed around his drink. “It just-- it doesn’t add up!” 

“Tell you what, I can promise you three things when you get there: expensive as shit taste, some real nice art on the walls, and a bright red umbrella. Bonus points if she’s got Lup bound and gagged in a fuckin’ closet. Jesus, don’t you work for me? When are you gonna get a move on?” 

Magnus glowered as he finished his whiskey, and set the glass down. 

* * *

After Noelle and Killian had departed after their arduous session of planning, Carey was left conspiring with Lucretia. A knock came at the apartment door. The women shared a look as Lucretia stamped out her cigarette in the ashtray and drew her sweater around herself as she walked to answer. Upon peering through the peephole, she found Magnus standing outside, looking around and up at the ceiling. 

“Shit,” Lucretia hissed, turning back to Carey with urgency. “It’s him. Is there anything out that--” 

Carey jumped off the couch in a panic. “No, Noelle took it all. We should be okay, I think?” 

“Sit in the kitchen. Eat something.” 

Lucretia squared her shoulders, pursed her lips to smooth her lipstick, and answered the knock. Magnus met her eyes, colder than he had on the night they’d spent together previously. “Hello, Lucy,” he said, sounding stiff. “Mind if I come in?” 

She didn’t move out of his way. 

“How did you get my address?” 

“I’m here on business.” 

She furrowed her brow, making sure to not over-act. Just enough to play off innocence. “What kind of business?” 

“I’d imagine you know.” 

She tried to glance at Carey from the corner of her eye, but she couldn’t quite find her around the corner.Despite herself, she let him in the apartment without resistance as he shrugged out of his coat. She followed after him as he walked into the living room, where he found Carey at the counter with a mouthful of apple. “Hey,” she greeted, mouth full and eyes wandering elsewhere. 

He looked at her for a long time. Lucretia was suddenly aware that they had interacted briefly after Carey had taken his wallet. It was still in Carey’s pocket. Magnus didn’t say anything. 

“Miss, would you excuse us? Just a few minutes, if you don’t have anywhere else to go,” requested Magnus, polite but stern. 

“Sure thing, pal.” Carey hopped off the stool and made for the door. She and Lucretia shared a look as she passed behind the detective. “See ya, Lucy. I’m gonna head home.” 

“Thanks for dinner,” Lucretia lied. Carey shut the door behind her. 

Magnus turned to her. “Apologies for cutting into your evening, but it’s an urgent matter.” 

Lucretia straightened herself taller yet again, looking up at him without fear. “Is this a housecall? I thought the other night was a one-night kind of deal, detective.” 

“It was,” he said curtly. “Mind if I take a look around?” 

“Do you have a warrant?” 

He took a step towards her. “I don’t know, should I get one?” 

“What’s going on? Why are you here?” 

He stared at her for a moment, looking angry. “You haven’t got a clue? Not at all?” 

“No, I don’t.” She cocked a brow and took a step towards him now to close the space between them. A hint of a pout touched her lips. “But if I’m good and let you take a look, promise you’ll tell me, Mr. Burnsides?” 

A pointed red nail trailed along the buttons of his dress shirt. She watched his jaw tense. 

He turned from her and continued his look around the apartment, eyeing the painting on the wall. 

“Edward Hopper,” Lucretia said. “It’s a replica.” 

“Looks pretty legit to me.” 

Her stomach dropped to her feet. “Well, money can buy a good imitation.” 

“You’re a writer? Can’t imagine that pays for a place like this.” 

She cocked a brow. “That’s a bit presumptuous of you, detective. I write under a pseudonym. You wouldn’t have a clue how successful I am.” 

“A pseudonym which is…” 

“Wouldn’t you like to know.” 

A smirk touched his lips. 

Magnus continued around the apartment, looking in the kitchen, opening cabinets beneath the sink and above the oven. She slid her glass of wine into her hand and followed him as he walked into the bedroom. He declined her offer of a drink and peered down under her bed, then opened her closet. 

“You know, this is quite invasive. I don’t feel comfortable with you poking around like this, unless of course this was another personal call… in which case I might make an exception.” 

He stood up with a short sigh and held her gaze. “I’m not here to sleep with you. Get that idea out of your head.” 

“Find anything good? Some dresses? Old books?” 

As he turned to leave the room, he stopped at the sight of the corner by the door. Half-hidden behind her long coat, a burgundy umbrella. He picked up up carefully by the body and turned to her. 

“Where did you get this?” 

Lucretia was genuinely confused. “What? I don’t even remember. I’ve had it for so long.” 

“And you didn’t bring it the other night? Where’s the one I gave you?” 

She folded her arms. “Hanging beneath the jacket.” He checked and it was indeed there. “I wasn’t expecting rain that night.” 

“Enough bullshit. Where is the girl?” 

Lucretia took a step back. “What girl?” 

“Don’t play coy with me. Lup Taaco, your ex-girlfriend. She’s been missing for a week now, and I think you know exactly where she is.” 

“I don’t know anything about--” 

He walked up to her so she had to look upwards to meet his eyes. “I know women like you-- I know your game. It’s sinister.” 

“You have the wrong idea, detective,” she deflected with ease. “And I think you’re wasting your time here when you could be looking for the real culprit. I have no ill will against Lup Taaco. Our departure was amicable.” 

He folded his arms. “Her brother says otherwise.” 

“Her brother says a lot of things. He’s never liked me, and he wants to point the finger because he’s got nothing else.” 

“Do  _ you  _ have anything else?” 

Lucretia took pause, pursing her lips and instinctively reaching for her breast pocket for her pack of cigarettes, but came up empty. A pang of guilt unsettled her stomach. She thought of Lup, vulnerable or endangered or even worse, dead. She deserved better than Lucretia’s desire for self-preservation. 

She cursed herself for being soft. 

“I might have something, but it needs to wait until the morning. That’s all I can share right now.” 

Magnus sighed and scribbled something in the rough-looking notebook he’d pulled from his pocket. “Fine. Meet me at my office then. And don’t think about skipping town.” 

“Wouldn’t dream of it, Magnus.” A sensual lilt touched her voice. “Goodnight.”  

* * *

The tip of a red umbrella scraped across the cement floor. 

“You done yet, asshole?” Lup spat, strands of damp, blonde hair sticking to her forehead. She strained against the ropes that kept her bound to her chair. “I didn’t even take your shit. What do you want with me?” 

The figure laughed in the shadows of the basement. Beneath the single lamp in the room above her, Lup slumped against her chair, her clawing and shouting and pleading useless against the rest of the velvety blackness of the room that seemed to creep closer to her by the minute, claustrophobia induced by the voice that always spoke from the dark.

“The seven of you.”  


	6. Chapter 6

Kravitz tucked himself into a little nook by the front window, with his back to a pillar. To one side, the passing crowds on the drizzly morning; to the other, the nearly full coffeeshop with its pleasant buzz of activity. At the far end, he could spy Barry, head bowed, his spectacled face right up against the screen, the back of his laptop covered in obscurely nerdy stickers. He too was seated facing into the room, his screen carefully turned to avoid casual prying.

Kravitz set his his slim gunmetal-grey laptop on the table and opened it: the white cursor blinked insistently at him. He took a sip of his macchiato.

<rq> What’s this about a private investigator

<skeletor> Lup’s brother hired him

<jorts> shit that’s bad man

<jorts> T 100% doesn’t know about us

<rq> Are you certain

<rq> This cannot interfere with the plan

<skeletor> seems like he means well????

<skeletor> Taako, I mean

<jorts> dude, I wanna find Lup too but this could make things worse?

<rq> Do you think this PI has the qualifications?

<skeletor> all I know is Taako thinks he’s ‘’’’hunky’’’’? But also that he might be having a thing with Lucretia

<jorts> that could be a problem

<jorts> that won’t help find Lup AND it keeps him in our business

<jorts> K, I think taako was flirt with you

<skeletor> u srs?

<jorts> y

<skeletor> but what about ‘’’’hunky’’’’

<jorts> twinz r flirtz

<rq> Can you use your charm, son?

<skeletor> ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯

<skeletor> ill try if u think it’ll help

<rq> I will also see if I can provide some influence from another direction

<jorts> ???????

<rq> Not your concern

* * *

When she came into the coffeeshop, Ren was at the bar. Lucretia let out a long sigh of relief. She needed her caffeine before the meeting, but she didn't need another run-in with Taako. 

She didn't know if it was his break or his day off, but she'd take it. 

The line had almost gotten her to the front counter when she heard the small bell ring that announced the opening of the front door. Lucretia glanced back over her shoulder. Magnus. Both a sight for sore eyes and someone else she wasn't quite ready to face. Not yet anyway. 

She turned her head forward and hunched her shoulders a bit, hoping he wouldn't notice. He was a detective, though, so she was pretty sure that wasn't going to work. Still, probably best to try anyway. 

“Morning, Ren.”

“Usual, Luce?”

“Let's add an extra shot….” She glanced around again. “And make it to go.”

“Gotcha.”

She bounced on her heels waiting for her chai, trying to stay close enough to hear her name, while also keeping tucked behind a pillar. 

The young man with the big glasses looked at her curiously, opened his mouth as if to say something and then closed again. 

“Spiced latte and large pourover for… Angus?”

He leapt forward to take the carrying tray. 

“Thank you, ma’am.”

“I don't know if it's exactly how Taako made it before you before, but I hope you like it.”

“I'm sure it'll be great,” he replied. 

“Good luck with your investigation. Don't let that boss of yours run you around too much. You're supposed to be learning, not just fetching coffee.”

The kid blushed as he took the drinks.

“Okay, thanks.”

Ren set down another drink. 

“Luce, your dirty chai is up.”

She grabbed her drink, trying to avoid looking too hard at either the kid Angus or Magnus making his way to the front of the line. And then she caught a glimpse of Taako coming out from the back room. Yup, time to bounce. 

* * *

Magnus reached into his pocket to pay for his latte; he was back at the coffeeshop just to…. Well, he wasn’t sure what he was there for. He already had a meeting set with Lucy at his office later that morning, and he could be working, filing stuff, maybe checking on other cases until she showed up. But instead, his feet had taken him back to Taako’s coffeeshop, where he told himself he could look to see if she was doing anything suspicious ahead of the meeting. Or maybe he could check in with Taako. Or maybe both. Yeah, both would be good.

Unfortunately, when he reached into his pocket, he came up empty. No wallet. Shit. He must’ve left it on the dresser? Or by the front door? Or in his other pants? His other coat? Too many places to lose his wallet to even be sure.

He looked agape at Ren.

“Um, I guess I’m short? So, yeah...cancel--”

Behind him, a gruff clearing of the throat, followed by a tap on the shoulder.

“Lost your wallet? We’ve all been there, friend. How about Merle spots you this one, and you pay it forward, yeah?”

He turned to see a short guy with a long beard whose Hawaiian shirt clashed violently with his companion’s sharp grey suit. The other man raised a disdainful eyebrow.

“Merle, must you indulge every fool who can’t find their own —”

Merle laughed uproariously.

“Fools gotta look out for fools, Johnny boy.” He pushed Magnus aside, despite being dramatically shorter. “Alright sis, just put this fella’s coffee on my tab. I’ll have that big ol’ soy vanilla latte again, yum.”

Magnus shifted off to the side to wait for his drink, and Taako looked him over with a half-smile.

“Oh, bubeleh, you can’t find your  _ wallet _ , how can you find....”

Magnus shrugged.

“Wallets and keys are surprisingly tough. Best job I ever got was tracking down a lady’s keys in her own house.” He winked at Taako as he chuckled at his own joke. Taako’s smile broadened just a touch.

“If you say so, Mags,” he said as he handed over the latte piled high with whipped cream. “We’ll talk soon?”

“Oh yeah, absolutely,” and he gave Taako one more reassuring nod before looking both for a seat and for Lucy. But he couldn’t see her anywhere, and once again all the tables were full. The knitters are back today. The woman with the white hair, a giant mug of herbal tea by her side, waved him over with a smile.

“I’ve got a chair for you, sweetie.”

The group was mostly the same, but Carey’s with them with a crochet hook in her hand and a ball of sparkly blue yarn in her lap, apparently working on a hat.

“Hey bud,” she said.

“Hey.” He balanced the latte on his knee, the caramel-swirled whipped cream swaying wildly across the top. “Whatcha doin’ here?”

She held up her project. “Learning how to make some stuff? Istus here’s a pretty dece teacher. How ‘bout you?”

He looked sideways at her; she had her tongue stuck out as she looked down at the yarn and hook, working it into a decreasing circle. Twice he’d seen her at Lucy’s apartment, and they hadn’t spoken either time. Now this was twice that he’d seen her at the coffeeshop. Was it a coincidence? He couldn’t be sure.

“Um, I’m just, you know, getting a coffee.”

“That’s a lot of sugar for one guy, bud.”

He blushed a bit and shrugged. “I don’t actually like coffee that much?”

She stopped crocheting and pushed her coffee aside. “Dude, set that down, just looking at it makes me nervous. I deffo don’t you want you spilling that all over.”

Istus looked at both of them with wise smiling eyes, skin crinkling around the corners, as she turned her work and started another row.

“Do you want to learn, young man?”

He reached out to touch the pooling scarf in her lap.

“It does look, um, cozy, I guess. Yeah, I mean, you don’t need to bother or whatever.”

“It’s no trouble at all, dear.” She set aside her work and pulled a fresh skein out of the enormous bag by her feet, along with a pair of big wooden needles. She pushed both into his hands, and he looked at the lot as if it were some sort of small animal that might bite him. The silver yarn shimmered against the dark rosewood needles.

He’d meant to look for Lucy, but between Istus gently guiding him through the motions of casting on loops and Carey gently teasing him for looking so nervous, he didn’t look any further than the circle of knitters.

Carey kept trying to ask him what he did, and then Istus guided him back to not dropping a stitch, to keeping his tension just right. He might’ve told her he was a private investigator? Maybe? After she finished her hat with a series of little triangles standing up in a line like a mohawk -- and wow, that was quick -- she just looked at him with bright unblinking eyes and a steady half-smile. 

He fumbled with the needles and tried to keep track of: Istus, her soft voice calm on one side of him, guiding him through the motions of making a knit stitch; Carey on the other side, joking about getting his big ol’ hands tangled up in that shiny slippy silver; the yarn itself, and looking up occasionally to see if he could spot Lucy somewhere in the shop. Not that he was going to talk to her  _ now _ exactly, but how was he supposed to be tailing her if he was stuck sitting here and couldn’t even spot her? Plus his drink, getting steadily colder.

He set the needles down in his lap and turned to pick up his drink. The knitting fell to the floor and the ball rolled across the floor and he got whipped cream on his nose. Carey started snort-laughing, while Istus gently chided her.

“Do you want June to remind everyone of that one time that you got your yarn so tangled that we ended up cutting it up for pom-poms?”

June and Paloma both giggled at that, and Carey blushed.

“Alright alright alright. Fine. Then.”

Magnus set his cup down with a clank in the saucer, splashing a bit of the latte into the saucer, then stood nervously -- why was he nervous? -- and picked up the ball of yarn. Mostly he felt shy in the midst of all of them. Then he caught sight of the clock over the door: he was almost late. He was probably going to be late, just in how long it’d take him to get to the office. And he didn’t want to arrive out of breath, or for her to get there for first, or to look…. 

He took a deep breath, then sat down again, heavily, holding the yarn in one hand and gulping down his latte with the other. “HeythisisgreatbutIgottagetgoing,” he said all in a rush.

Carey chortled, but Istus just smiled.

He tried to push the yarn and needles back at her, but she held out a hand.

“No, no, I keep extra on hand for just such occasions,” she said. “Please, I want you to take it and practice when you get a chance. It’s very calming.” Her eyes twinkled a bit and then she reached back to her big bag. She pulled out a small fabric drawstring bag. “Take this, put the project in it, and try again the next time you have a break. You’ll learn something about yourself, I promise.”

* * *

Kravitz stood and stretched, looking out over the coffeeshop inhabitants. The crowd had thinned: the knitting group had broken up, including Magnus, and Barry too had taken off. Lucretia was gone: thankfully, Magnus seemed to have missed her entirely.

He strolled up to the front. The other barista-slash-cashier had taken off, and it was just Taako by himself lounging against the counter.

“Hey, another macchiato, handsome?” said Taako with a shy smile. “Or are you already caffeinated enough?” 

“I could certainly take another, if you’re the one pulling shots.”

The shy smile broadened into a grin as Taako peeled himself up off of the counter and strolled over to the espresso machine.

“Alright then, one macchiato coming up, my man.”

Kravitz rested one of his cool hands on the warm machine, watching as Taako ran beans through the grinder, filled the filter basket and tamped down the grounds. As he clicked it into place, he looked up at Kravitz, still smiling.

“How’s your day?” he asked.

Kravitz returned the smile. He was thinking fast about how to turn the conversation as they’d talked about it in the chat. But he was also just enjoying that sweet smile.

“Better now,” he replied. “I’m pleased to see you here today, I thought perhaps....”

Taako paused in his frothing of the milk to look quizzically at Kravitz.

“What do you mean?”

“Well, you said that you had hired a detective, I thought perhaps you might be preoccupied….”

Taako shrugged, overly casual.

“I mean, that’s what I hired him for, yeah? Do the work while I keep the shop running.”

Kravitz considered for a long moment if, whether, and how far to push this with Taako. “Charm,” they said on the chat. Use his charm. Yeah, ok, sure. He could do that. He leaned up against the espresso machine and gave Taako what he hoped earnestly was a piercing stare.

“What if he is getting, uh” -- Kravitz couldn’t help but blush, regardless of his resolution to be a cool character -- “too friendly with Lucretia? Maybe he’s not the best choice.”

Taako blinked at him. He slid the finished drink along the counter, and Kravitz picked it up, inhaling deeply.

“Huh.” Taako tapped a finger on the top of the machine. “I, uh, yeah. Maybe. Maybe. Well sure. Maybe I should talk to him?” He was chewing on his lip when he looked at Kravitz again. “Would you go with me?”

“Absolutely.” He gave Taako his best smile.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> FWIW, Carey is _absolutely_ making [this hat](https://www.ravelry.com/patterns/library/dinosaur-dragon-hat)


End file.
